


An Offer He Can't Refuse

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 05:59:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10155581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms





	

 

“Y/N! Let’s go!”

You shot a glare at Dean over your shoulder. What the hell was his problem? He’d been pissy for the last half an hour or so, stabbing his fork into the food on his plate hard enough to make it rattle against the formica tabletop. Every time the cute waiter had come to the table, he’d stabbed harder, even slammed his bottle of beer down on the table, glaring at the poor guy; a glare that was enough to scare the shit out of vamps and werewolves. You couldn’t imagine what the waiter was thinking every time he looked at Dean. If look on his face was any indication, he was terrified. 

After the fourth or fifth time Dean scared off the waiter, you were irritated enough to push yourself away from the table and move to a seat at the counter. The cute waiter had come over after a few minutes, set a cup in front of you and filled it with coffee. The two of you had settled into an easy conversation, a little bit of flirting on your part, a lot on his. Nothing wrong with it; he was attractive and you were lonely, tired of waiting around for Dean Winchester to take notice of you, to realize that you were more than a hunting partner.

He quickly scrawled his name and number on a napkin and pushed it across the counter to you, winking. Dean yelled your name for a second time, so you snatched it up and shoved it in the back pocket of your jeans, waving over your shoulder as you followed the Winchesters out of the diner.

Dean was striding across the parking lot, his long legs making short work of the distance from the door to the car. You hurried to catch up.

“Jesus Christ, Dean, what is wrong with you?” you mumbled. 

“Nothing,” he growled, yanking open the driver’s side door.

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing,” you snapped. “Something is obviously bugging you.”

Dean swung around, slamming his fist on the top of the Impala. “Just drop it, okay?” He dropped into the car, slamming the door, hard enough to make the car shake.

You took a step back, the tone of his voice startling you. You caught Sam’s eye over the top of the car, but he only shrugged and climbed into the front seat beside his brother. You slid into the back, slumped forward, your head in your hands, your body jerking slightly as Dean peeled out of the parking lot.

You bit the inside of your cheek most of the way back to the motel, desperate to break the tense silence, but afraid of making things worse. You had no idea why Dean was so upset, why he was so angry with you. Trying to figure it out was actually making you angry. By the time you got back to the motel, you were fuming, pissed at Dean for making you feel this way. The car had barely rolled to a stop before you were climbing out and striding toward the door to your motel room. You heard Sam calling your name, but you ignored him, slamming the door behind you.

Fifteen minutes later, you were regretting your decision to storm off. You liked Dean, a lot, more than you probably should. A lot more than he liked you, that was for sure. Fighting with him for no reason was ridiculous.

“Crap,” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair, staring at your closed door. The two of you needed to talk this out, come to some kind of peaceful agreement. Whether Dean liked it or not. Otherwise you would never be comfortable hunting together.

* * *

You were just coming around the corner, confident that you would be able to at least draw Dean into a conversation with what you currently held in your hand, when you saw Sam leaning against your motel room door. He pushed himself off the wall as you approached.

“Uh, hey, Y/N,” he grinned. “I came to see how you’re doing.”

“Feeling like a jackass for fighting with Dean,” you replied. “Is he still in the room? I want to talk to him.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea,” Sam said. “He’s still pissed.”

“Well, I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse,” you smiled, holding up the box in your hand. Written across the side were the words, “Mama’s Homemade Pies.” 

Sam shook his head, still smiling. “You sure about this?”

“Positive,” you nodded.

You followed him three doors down, stepping into their room just ahead of him when he held it open for you. Dean turned when he heard the door, the half-smile on his face fading when he saw you.

“What’s she doing here?” he grumbled in Sam’s direction.

Sam ignored his brother, snagged his backpack from the chair by the door, and left, closing the door quietly behind himself, leaving you and Dean alone.

Dean glared at you. “What are you doing here, Y/N?” he finally asked.

“I brought you a pie,” you answered, setting the box on the table. “As a peace offering. And, I thought we could talk.”

“About what?” Dean muttered, opening the box and peering into it, the scent of sweet, cinnamon apples filling the room.

“Why are you so pissed off?” you asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered. 

“Look, Dean, I get it. We were both being assholes, but you started it. I’m just trying to find out what happened, why you’re so, I don’t know, pissed.” You sat gingerly on the end of the nearest bed, watching the green-eyed hunter.

He ignored you, grabbed a plastic fork from the stack on the table, and scooped up a huge bite of the pie. He stared at you, chewing, no answer forthcoming.

You shifted nervously, but you refused to back down. You could be just as stubborn as Dean. “Come on, it’s not that big of a deal, right? I mean, Jesus, just tell me why you’re so pissed off, and I’ll let it go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I said I don’t want to talk about it, so stop asking me. Christ, why can’t you just leave it alone?”

“Because you’re being kind of a baby,” you retorted. “I just want to know what the fuck got you so pissed off at the diner that you had to act like a gigantic douchebag.”

“It’s nothing, Y/N,” he reiterated.

“Obviously it’s something,” you sighed. “You’re angry and I don’t understand why you won’t -”

“Because I was jealous, okay?!” Dean shouted, cutting you off. He shoved himself away from the table so violently the chair behind him clattered to the floor. “I like you. I fucking  _ like _  you. And when you were flirting with that pansy-assed waiter, it was fucking pissing me off. Because I don’t even want to think about anybody besides me making you laugh, or smile, or making your eyes shine like they were every time that dick said some lame, cheesy line.”

Shocked to your core, you couldn’t do anything other than sit and stare at Dean. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t string together words coherent enough to make sense of the thoughts currently tumbling through your head. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

“You happy now, Y/N? You got me to admit to actually having feelings!” He rolled his eyes and stomped across the room to his bag on the floor, where you knew a bottle of whiskey was stored. He spun off the lid, cupping it in his palm as he took several long swallows. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and stared at the ugly painting on the wall, his back to you. 

You could see the tight, bunched muscles in his back working as he hauled in deep breath after deep breath; see his biceps straining against the confines of his blue and red flannel as he lifted the bottle to his mouth, squeezing it so hard his knuckles were white.  

You rose to your feet and crossed the room to stand behind him. You took the bottle out of his hand, took a drink, and held it at your side as he turned to look at you. You were inches away from him, so close you could feeling the anger radiating off of him in waves. You stared up into Dean’s vibrant green eyes, the urge to kiss him so overwhelming that you had no choice but to push up on the tips of your toes and press your lips to his.

He sighed, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, his fingers spreading out to hold you to him. The kiss was soft, gentle, but you could sense Dean’s pent up emotion churning just beneath the surface, a need for you that you hadn’t known existed, a need you longed to fulfill. He broke away first, his fingers dragging down the side of your neck along the thin chain of your Saint Michael’s medallion. They came to rest at the hollow of your throat, the silver medallion between his thumb and forefinger, his warm fingers on your neck.

“I like you, too,” you murmured.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you nodded, taking a step closer, your body now pressed against his.

Dean’s hand slid up your neck to rest just beneath your chin, pushing your head back, his mouth so close to yours you could feel his lips move as he spoke.

“There’s no going back, Y/N.”

His words sent a chill racing down your spine and a warmth spreading between your legs. You clenched your thighs together, biting back a moan. How was it that just his words had such an overwhelming affect on you?

“No going back,” you whispered, your lips grazing his.

Dean grabbed you and turned abruptly, pushing you against the wall. He growled low in the back of his throat as his lips roamed over your neck and shoulders and your fingers dug into his broad shoulders. He pushed a hand between your bodies and popped open the buttons on your jeans, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties, drawing a breathy moan from you. He stopped, his green eyes staring into yours as he pulled your hands over your head and held them against the wall, his huge hand easily holding both of your wrists. He didn’t look away as he shoved his knee between your legs, pushing them open, and his fingers slid inside your panties and over the lips of your pussy.

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he groaned, dropping his head and kissing hungrily along the line of your throat. The pad of his thumb pressed against your clit, circling it, and his middle finger slid through your wet folds, teasing at your entrance. Your hips bucked in response.

“Dean,” you moaned.

His grip on your hands tightened and he pushed his body closer to yours, his lips dragging up your throat to your ear. His voice was rough, shot through with lust and greed, his breath hot on your skin.

“Every time I saw you with another guy - talking to him, laughing at his stupid jokes, whatever - it was like a punch to my gut. I wanted you to be mine, to belong to me.” He slowly caressed you as he spoke, teasing you, dragging out the desire you felt for him until you felt ready to explode. “I want you so fucking bad that it’s making me crazy.”

He kissed you, a kiss burning with so much passion and need that you felt like you were on fire. You pulled your hands free, wrapped your arms around him and returned the kiss with the same fervor. You got so lost in the kiss, in the feel of Dean’s body flush against yours, that you it took you a few seconds to realize that he was yanking off his clothes, dropping them to the floor. You pushed him backwards, the two of you stumbling over your feet as you each stripped off your remaining clothes and fell to the bed.

Dean kneeled between your open legs, one hand beside your head, the other cupping your sex, two fingers entering you, thrusting repeatedly. His lips were sinful, moving over your body, suckling your breasts, kissing a trail down your stomach until he was hovering over you, his tongue darting out to tap lightly at the swollen nub of your clit, circling it slowly.

You moaned, your hands fisting in the blankets on the bed as you pushed yourself closer to Dean’s mouth. His mouth closed over you, his tongue sliding in beside his fingers, thrusting, pumping, the noises he was making just adding to the sensations already overwhelming you. It was better than anything you’d ever imagined.

He pushed forward, his head moving side to side as he practically devoured you, pushing you to heights that had previously been unattainable. Your hand clamped down on the back of his head, his name a curse falling from your lips as you came, body tensing, heart pounding, over and over until you collapsed, spent.

Dean released you, crawling up your body, gently kissing you, until he was stretched out on the bed beside you, the two of you facing each other, his hand on your hip, his thumb drifting in lazy circles. You leaned closer and kissed him, your tongue drifting along his lower lip, your hands on his chest. You pushed him to his back and straddled him, the lips of your pussy brushing against his cock, drawing a deep growl from the hunter.

He threw his head back and grabbed your hips, easily lifting you and lowering you onto his throbbing cock. You eased onto him, taking your time, his substantial length burning deliciously as he stretched you open. 

Once he was fully seated inside of you, you rocked back and forth, moving slowly at first, wanting to take your time, wanting to spend an eternity with Dean, an eternity watching the ecstasy on his face, watching the way the muscles in his arms and his shoulders rippled and flexed as he moved, an eternity feeling the way he held you, his fingers tight on your hips, digging in, urging you to move faster. 

He put his heels on the bed, thrusting up into you as he pulled you down, burying himself deep inside you. You put your hands on his chest, riding him hard, your breasts bouncing, your hair falling over your face, your breath tearing in and out of your throat as you chased your orgasm. 

“Yes, oh my God, yes,” you gasped as the pleasure exploded through you, every nerve tingling, your body completely consumed by the sensations Dean was pulling out of you. 

Dean growled your name, his body tensing as he came, the sweat beading his brow running down his cheek and neck. His hands slid up your back to your shoulders and he pulled you to him, catching your lips in his, kissing you as he thrust into you once, twice, and a third time, moaning into your mouth.

“That was amazing,” you murmured. “Fucking amazing.”

Dean chuckled and rolled to his side, pulling you with him, his nose buried against the side of your neck. He took a deep breath, his lips roaming over your neck and shoulders. 

“Mine,” he whispered.

“Yours,” you sighed.


End file.
